Hasten not, dear.

Hasten not, dear.

Hasten not, dear, headfirst into Myopia,
For in that land
Lies all unplanned
A barren unbackwards dystopia.
Think not, dear, I was no quisling,
But irritation
At self-mistation
Pushed me into that place regretting.
Doubt not, dear, I'd apologize,
Yet my folly pride
Would not abide
To show weakness in my eyes.
Thus, look here, where voice isn't voice,
I'd take all back, given choice.